


Carbon Monoxide

by NovaRawr



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Implied Character Death, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaRawr/pseuds/NovaRawr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <em>"Carbon monoxide; as I take you home...</em>
    <br/>
    <em>The first time I get my socks on right -</em>
    <br/>
    <em>But I don't have a gas mask on.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>As I walk-a, walk-a, walk-a, walk-a, walk-a, walk-a,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>walk-a, walk-a, walk-a, walk-a, walk-a, walk y'home.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>I'm so cool, I'm so cool, I'm so cool.."</em>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Carbon Monoxide

There were many things John Egbert didn't have. He didn't have much in the way of brawns. Or brains. Or 'cool'. He didn't know how to drive, despite owning a car. From the day he was born, he didn't have a mum, and from the age of 11, he didn't have a dad. He didn't have more than four friends - only four if you counted the crabby 'friend-with-benefits' whom 'hated his guts' though - and he didn't have any special talents - unless you counted getting Dave to blush once a talent. To that extent, he didn't have the courage to tell the blond how much that blush had made his heart skip tenfold. His hair always stuck up awkwardly, his glasses had a tendency to sit crookedly on his face, his two front teeth resembled that of a beaver.

He didn't even have the ability to put his own socks on right, never tugging them up enough to stay on properly while he walked. They always slipped down to gather uncomfortably under his feet and show his skinny ankles, and it seemed it happened even more so in the colder months, just to piss him off.

Every morning the 23-year-old man would wake up with an aching head, standing in his boxers before the mirror in his room to study fresh, marks on his now-bloodied from the night before, left by that amber-eyed menace with such dishevelled hair. Of course Karkat had left before he woke up, he always did if he stayed the night. And the horrible feeling he got in the pit of his stomach after these nights was only increased when he'd walk downstairs and find a cooling cup of coffee, made just the way he liked it with a chocolate biscuit, one of his anti-depressants and a note written in large, scribbled handwriting; _'mornin egderp.'_ And he'd take them with gratitude.

Later on, he'd always search the papers for job opportunities and find nothing. Go to pre-scheduled interviews and be turned down, time and time again. Something about him didn't seem to appeal to any of the interviewers, or he'd do or say something stupid that would mess up his faux-professional attire.

Every afternoon he'd hang out with his friends as they started to get off of work, listen to them talk about new promotions, or some cute guy or girl moved to work with them. It was a good thing John was good with the whole concept of a façade, or they might not believe that he was happy for them. They sometimes offered him a sympathetic ear, maybe a few bucks to help him towards paying for the rent or food or bills, or a joked offer to help him make a less-sloppy job of putting his socks on. And he'd always decline with a laugh at everything. But he'd also notice later when his best bro had slipped a small wad of money into his pocket at their goodbyes without him realising.

Every evening he'd sit at home and wallow in self-pity for a while, text his friends a goodnight, maybe invite a certain someone over, or maybe fall asleep curled in on himself on the sofa.

But today was different. That was crystal clear when John had finally managed to do something he hadn't done for years. Get his socks on properly.

He had only taken one glance at his mirror before he started to get dressed into a blue hoodie, scarf and jeans. He had taken his coffee and biscuit, but thrown the blue pill by them into the bin and folded up the note to tuck in his pocket beside a small, crumpled photo taken years and years before. He went for a rather long walk around his neighbourhood, noticing and remembering everything that happened around him - the happy and the sad, the old and the new.

He went out with his friends like normal that afternoon, sitting at their usual table of four as the other three chattered around him. He still put up his act, but it seemed to be faltering a little with his growing drowsiness. The girls might not notice, but he knew at least one person would notice his falters at the usual declines of offered help. So when Dave asked to walk him home that night, he was not surprised.

He didn't go easy - it had taken 30 minutes of being home for John to convince the other man to leave - but he was finally alone again. That is when it happened. The blue-eyed man gave a yawn, stretching his arms over his head and picking up his phone, as if to send his friends their normal texts, but instead started to walk towards his garage. He had opened the door, flicked on the faulty lights and kicked off his trainers as he walked to remove the hosepipe from one of the concrete walls. A good few strips of duct tap later and John was walking to the driver's seat of his car, phone in one hand and hose nozzle in the other has he awkwardly opened a door and slipped into the passenger side.

He lay the two objects in his lap and reached a hand into his pocket to take out the note and photo, straightening them out as best he could and tucking them carefully behind the wheel, so he could see them and they'd stay there. The other object he had drawn out of his pocket, the care keys, he carefully slotted into place and he picked up his phone to send one single message to Dave.

_'i'll be alright dave. don't miss me too much, k? c;'_

With that, he reached his hand out of the open door to put his phone on the roof of the car before he thread the hose through the window and shut the door, closing the window on the hose as best he could without the lining breaking. Then he started the ignition, the one thing he knew how to do with a car and the only thing he needed to do, and let his eyes drift shut. He started feeling nauseous, started feeling a slight throbbing in the back of his head, but other than that he felt all right. Maybe a little better inside. He wriggled his toes around in his socks feebly as he slowly started falling to sleep, a soft smile spreading on his face.

_"Finally.."_

Needless to say, Dave was in for a horrible surprise when he went to make the man's coffee the next morning.


End file.
